


Three Sheets to the Wind and Fire

by flxmelxnce



Category: Granblue Fantasy (Video Game)
Genre: Comfort, Drinking, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, M/M, nezha's drunk that's the entire fic, they're both dumb and have feelings, very little angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-20
Updated: 2020-05-20
Packaged: 2021-03-02 17:29:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,941
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24280594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flxmelxnce/pseuds/flxmelxnce
Summary: "I beat my record," Nezha declared a bit too proudly. "Seventeen bottles."
Relationships: Baal/Nezha (Granblue Fantasy)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 22





	Three Sheets to the Wind and Fire

**Author's Note:**

> drink responsibly, don't be like nezha-

It was dusk when Baal decided to leave the Grandcypher airship, heading towards the town not far off from the grassy plains the ship was situated on. But it wasn't for one of his typical late night gigs or a simple nighttime stroll, oh no--

He wanted to know where the hell Nezha ran off to this time.

The Grandcypher ship had been docked in Port Breeze for a couple of days for a refill on supplies. Nothing out of the ordinary had happened throughout the whole day; no strange behaviours nor dissonances, just a simple resting day for the venturing crew. Baal had helped out of course, providing assistance in shopping for materials and other wares. And he had noticed Nezha offering his own assistance as well, stifling his chuckles when he would come across the wind primal carrying mountains of crates in his arms like they weighed nothing (which was true in Nezha's case).

But it wasn't until when nightfall approached that Baal felt Nezha's thrumming resonance disappear from the Grandcypher. It was strange for Nezha to suddenly disappear in the middle of the night, especially without warning, so Baal had traced his lingering melody to where he was now.

A bar.

None of the late night drinkers seemed to pay Baal any mind when he entered, Port Breeze's residents were more on the neutral side when it came to primal beasts, after all. And they especially didn't pay any mind to the hulking mass of armour that was hunched over one of the bar stools in the far corner. Baal's lips were already forming a grimace when he caught sight of the array of empty bottles next to the ebony haired male.

On the other hand, Hannibal seemed to meow in amusement at the primal beast's state, and Baal's frown deepened.

The earth primal slowly made his way towards Nezha, giving a weary nod towards the bartender who chuckled at his fatigued expression. He sat down on the velvet stool next to Nezha, scowling at the smell of alcohol from his body and the staggered melody of his resonance.

_Just how drunk was he?_

"Oh... Baal," Nezha finally turned his gaze away from his collection of wine bottles to face the earth primal, and Baal could notice the faint tinge of colour on the primal beast's cheeks, paired along with his half-lidded eyes that were glazed over in a swirl of distorted emotions. "When did you get here?"

"Just a few seconds ago."

"I see..." Nezha blinked slowly, before tilting the end of the bottle towards Baal. "Want some?"

" _No_ ," Baal scowled, watching as Nezha shrugged off the music primal's glare and took another swig of the wine. "It's not like you to want to get this drunk. What's possibly on your mind?"

There was silence, a long aching silence and Baal wanted to sigh at how even when drunk, Nezha refused to speak about what he was thinking about. Baal wasn't one of many words, but even he had his fair share of secrets that he was willing to tell if he trusted the other party enough. But on the other hand Nezha, tall and mysterious and awfully stupid Nezha, had far too many things that he hid. And even when Baal tried to listen to Nezha's core and decipher the dual elemental's thoughts, it would always prove to be a struggle. Not that Baal minded Nezha keeping his thoughts reserved, but sometimes Baal just wished Nezha would be more comfortable with telling things about himself.

Well, _sort of_. 

Baal supposed that was his way of saying that he just wished Nezha would trust him more.

"You know, Baal..." Nezha finally spoke after another lingering pause, and Baal's gaze perked up. His crimson eyes settled on his primal companion, who had his elbows resting on the wooden countertop, and one of his armoured hands clutching onto the neck of his half-empty wine bottle (which, by Baal's guess, wouldn't be very long before it joined its other empty comrades).

Nezha took another short intermission, blinking lazily, and then opened his mouth. "I killed a lot of people, huh..." He pondered out loud, as if it was a sudden realization.

Baal blinked once, twice, and then had to bite back his scoff. "You sure did," he sighed instead, propping up his elbow to rest his cheek in the palm of his hand. His eyes momentarily left Nezha to watch as Hannibal scampered off of his shoulder to lay down on the table, curling up and resting against Baal's arm. Strange how he wasn't going to Nezha's side like he usually would, but perhaps the feline didn't like the reeking stench of alcohol either.

Nezha grumbled something incoherent to Baal's ears, taking another sip before continuing. "I feel guilty..." was what he mumbled out, and Baal could almost chuckle at how sad and mopey he sounded.

"Well I know that much," Baal mused. "But you didn't want to kill them, did you?"

"No, no I wanted to kill them," Nezha replied back, and Baal pinched the bridge of his nose. Talking to a drunk Nezha was far more difficult than he had thought.

"But..." Nezha mumbled, blue gaze far off and distant, and Baal wondered if he was picturing the dark skies and the bloodstained battlefields. "They had families and friends you know... and I _killed_ them!" He whined out, his unoccupied hand forming a fist and slamming it onto the counter, effectively breaking the wood and earning a few stares from the other drinkers. Baal groaned at this, shamefully covering his face with his hand, dreading how large the bill would be to cover the many wine bottles and now the repairs for the bartender's mistreated table.

"It's been _centuries_ , Nezha. You have to forgive yourself," Baal sighed, and Hannibal meowed his agreement.

Nezha was quiet, idly swishing the dark red liquid inside of the glass. His eyes lowered, letting out a silent breath of air before he leaned to his side and let his head gently rest on Baal's shoulder, making the latter freeze. Baal would've commented on how heavy Nezha was, or how he couldn't bear the close confrontation with the stinging stench of alcohol, or how Nezha's ridiculous headpieces were threateningly poking at his neck. But nothing left his lips besides a soft sigh, his crimson eyes staring at the mound of ebony hair on his shoulder, a faint dust of pink on his cheeks that mimicked Nezha's own glow of colour. It didn't help that Hannibal had a teasing grin on his lips either, swishing his blade-like tail in amusement at his owner.

"But you're like family to me..." Nezha murmured quietly, and Baal stilled once more, shock glazing his widened eyes. "And if something happened to you... I wouldn't be able to forgive myself..." He drawled, taking another heaping swig of wine.

Baal was speechless, every retort and remark on his tongue disappearing far too quickly for him to comprehend. Of course Baal cared about Nezha, cared about him far too much than the average human or primal beast. He was strange with his stoic expressions and calm way of speech, almost scary when he would go on his rampages and let his torrent of gales flood the terrain and breathe life to his fires, and he was certainly idiotic with finding the littlest things about human nature intriguing and fascinating.

But Baal supposed he found them all charming in a bizarre way-- because what happened?

Baal fell stupidly in love.

And he knew his efforts would bear no fruit, because one; Baal's own nature would never allow him to even hint at his growing affections, and he had his sharp tongue to primarily blame for that. And two, Nezha was still new to the concept of emotions other than calm, surprised, intrigued, amused, and bloodthirsty. Baal had faith that Nezha would be able to one day feel an inkling of what love was, but he doubted it would be anytime soon.

But maybe he was wrong, Baal thought, humming softly as he allowed his own head to rest atop Nezha's, ignoring the hard edges of the wind primal's headpieces digging into his skin. Perhaps just some alcohol was enough to loosen those strings around Nezha's other emotions, and Baal let out an amused huff at the notion.

"Nothing will happen to me," he reassured with a sigh, before a sudden realization hit his brain, and curious crimson eyes stared at the mound of hair he rested on. "Is this why you came here to drink? Because you were thinking I would disappear?"

Nezha made a disgruntled noise in response, hazy blue eyes narrowing. "Why wouldn't I think you would disappear one day?" He grunted out all too honestly. "It seems too good to be true to have you care about me. Of course I know Satyr and Medusa are the same, but you're different, Baal," he mumbled. "You never cared about my past and the things that I did, after all. Funny, isn't it? How I seem to cherish such minuscule things," he chuckled, and Baal could hear the note of sadness in his voice before he washed it away with the rest of the alcohol he had left, placing the empty bottle with its other companions on the table.

Baal didn't know what to say, if he were being honest. Nezha's open honesty was one thing, but hearing that all he wanted was to be seen as who he was in the present was another. It _was_ a minuscule thing, something that shouldn't even be that difficult for Nezha to obtain-- but Baal supposed that just proved how even now, centuries later, humans and primals alike still continued to see him as the animalistic weapon that thrived during the War.

Baal felt a pang of pity for his companion, and that emotion transferred over to Hannibal-- who uncurled from his spot on the countertop to instead hop over and sit on Nezha's thigh, pressing his body against his torso in comforting purrs.

"Idiot," was all Baal muttered after another pause, and he heard another quiet chuckle escape Nezha's lips. "You really are dumb sometimes, aren't you?" He scoffed, making eye contact with the bartender and gesturing for a glass of water for the dazed primal beast.

"I apologize," Nezha let out a soft laugh, and Baal relished in how nice it sounded. "You seem to take the brunt end of that, don't you?"

Baal grunted, giving a nonchalant shrug of his shoulders. He supposed it was technically his fault, being near Nezha all the time, but sometimes the dual elemental's shenanigans proved to be quite entertaining. Emphasis on sometimes.

The glass of water Baal had ordered was placed in front of Nezha, and the wind primal grimaced at it, but begrudgingly took it when Baal shot him a warning glare. He downed the liquid, mumbling about how he wanted more wine before Baal punched him in the arm. It hardly made the primal beast flinch, and if anything Baal was the one who was in pain from connecting his gloved knuckles with Nezha's steel armour. But nonetheless it made Nezha spit out another fit of laughter, and Baal couldn't help but let a few chuckles of his own slip past his lips at seeing his overly giddy companion.

It was strangely nice to be spending time with Nezha like this. Not like Baal didn't like the calm and collected image Nezha usually presented himself with-- of course Baal enjoyed it. But seeing the dual elemental being so honest with his feelings, seeing the usual distant and melancholy gaze of his disappear for just a slim moment-- it felt pleasant. It felt like it was just the two of them sitting in the dimly lit bar; resting against each other, the chatter of the other patrons fading into a soft comforting hum, and certainly ignoring the unruly amount of empty bottles that Nezha drank.

It was peaceful, gentle, and Baal wished it could just last for a moment longer. Maybe even for eternity, but he would never admit it out loud.

Nezha was the first to break the silence after their combined laughter, one of his armoured hands slowly reaching for Baal's own, mindlessly toying with the earth primal's gloved digits. "I didn't expect you to come and seek me out though," he huffed, before shifting his head to look up at Baal, eyes glazed over with mischief. "You really are far more compassionate than you let on, Baal," he teased, grinning.

"Shut up," Baal hissed, averting his eyes with a flush of pink on his cheeks. Nezha snickered in response, followed shortly by an amused purr from Hannibal.

"... I appreciate it." Nezha murmured, and Baal's gaze swiveled back to the wind primal, just in time to see Nezha's hand delicately intertwine with his own. "Thank you, Baal."

Baal blinked, stunned, before scoffing as his cheeks burned an even deeper shade of scarlet. Nevermind, he took back everything he said about enjoying the honesty of drunk Nezha. He didn't like it anymore.

"Why are you thanking me, idiot?" Baal huffed. A rhetorical question it was-- one that both him and Nezha were more than aware of the answer to.

Still, Nezha entertained Baal with a playful shrug, smirking when Baal's fingers interlaced with his. "Don't know. I'm drunk."

Baal couldn't help the small smile that bloomed upon his lips, muttering again how Nezha was an idiot before he nudged the wind primal's head with his unoccupied hand, attempting to pry the mound of ebony hair off of his shoulder. "Since you seem so lively now, it's time to leave," Baal determined, holding back his snicker when Nezha pouted.

Nonetheless, the dual elemental reluctantly straightened his posture--

\--And almost immediately toppled over to the other side if Baal didn't manage to reel him back in. Baal was thankful that their hands were intertwined together, or else maybe Nezha would have to suffer with a concussion on top of his hangover tomorrow.

"Can you even stand?" Baal heaved a heavy sigh, standing up and beckoning for Hannibal-- returning his feline pet back into his consciousness for the time being.

He watched, half amused-half distressed, as Nezha stumbled onto his feet, reluctantly letting go of Baal's hand to instead swing his entire arm over the earth primal's shoulders for support. Baal yelped at the sudden weight, his hand immediately going to Nezha's back to steady him. "I think I can confirm the answer to that is a no," Nezha grunted, and Baal scoffed a quiet " _you think?_ "

Baal turned his gaze towards the bartender, giving an apologetic look to the poor man who had to deal with the earth primal's stubborn companion for who knows how long. But the finely dressed male only waved Baal off, laughing. "We're used to it," he voiced, "Nezha's a regular here, after all. You can pay for everything tomorrow if that's more suitable."

"I beat my record," Nezha declared a bit too proudly. "Seventeen bottles."

Baal cast a glance at the empty array of bottles, and sure enough, he counted seventeen.

He wanted to scream at Nezha, but perhaps that should be reserved until tomorrow. So for now, he resorted to internally screaming.

"Thanks, sorry for the trouble," Baal gave a small bow of his head to the bartender, and Nezha gave his own curt wave in farewell before the earth primal heaved his companion through the bar and out the door.

Baal breathed in the fresh midnight air of the skies when they stepped out, silently thankful that he no longer had to smell the stench of alcohol anymore-- well, besides the heaping mass of drunken armour at his side, that is.

"You know you're heavy, right?" Baal muttered to his primal companion, trudging through the empty streets of the otherwise bustling town of Port Breeze, the street-lamps illuminating their path to the grassy terrain of where the large Grandcypher ship sat in wait.

”That’s harsh, Baal. It’s only because of my armour.”

”You’re saying that as if that same armour didn’t make you a walking mass of muscle.”

Nezha grunted, mumbling something about blaming his Astral and not himself, to which drew out a quiet sigh from the music beast.

They finally neared the entrance to the large airship, with Baal almost sweating from the sheer amount of weight he had to carry. The earth primal got a few questioning looks from the crew members who were out on night patrol, but thankfully for him, they didn’t vocalize their thoughts out loud. He would probably be interrogated tomorrow morning though, which made Baal internally grimace.

He pondered for a moment where he should even put the tuned out primal beast, struggling between Nezha's own room or the infirmary. But seeing as though Baal didn’t want to explain to the healers why Nezha was in the infirmary with a hangover-- much less why Nezha was even drowning himself in seventeen bottles of wine-- Baal resorted to heading down the long corridors towards the dual elemental's small lodging.

When he reached Nezha’s door, he lifted his free hand and tapped Nezha on the cheek. “Where’s your key?”

Nezha grumbled something in a language Baal could tell didn’t exist before raising his leg and kicking open the door-- Baal’s eyes going wide and he mentally prayed that the sudden impact wouldn’t wake anyone on the ship. “No key. Only foot,” Nezha grunted, before leading the way into his designated room. It seemed like the abrupt use of energy from the wind primal fueled him enough to be able to walk a bit more properly, Baal thought, dumbfounded.

The earth primal momentarily took some time to gaze around Nezha’s room when they entered. He hadn’t been here all that often, and if anything, Nezha was the one who would usually frequent Baal's room if he wanted to chat or simply just wanted another presence with him while reading. A plethora of books were lined up on the bookshelves along the walls, and the literature that couldn't fit along the ledges were stacked on the floor in orderly pillars. Frames of Nezha's collection of preserved butterflies were arranged on the walls as well, remnants of the wind primal's previous hobby of bug catching before he picked up an interest for ancient texts, and Baal chuckled reminiscing the times Nezha would scare Medusa with the creatures he would catch. His desk was neat and tidy, and Baal could recognize some of the tools he used to write his letters with. A nostalgic feeling thrummed in Baal's core remembering the times they would exchange letters before they both agreed to join the skyfaring crew, and Baal wondered if Nezha ever kept the letters Baal had sent him like Baal had kept his-- completely oblivious to the small box tucked away beneath Nezha's desk that contained those very letters. 

When they neared the bed, Nezha almost immediately fell from Baal's shoulders and flopped onto the soft mattress, and Baal did his best to muffle his snicker. "Aren't you going to take off your armour?" Baal asked instead, a tinge of amusement lacing his voice. His eyes momentarily glanced at the bedside drawer, where he immediately spotted the key to Nezha's room. He decided to pretend he didn't see it.

"You already know that I can sleep in it," Nezha grunted, and Baal shrugged. He did, yes, but that didn't mean that he could actually understand how in the world Nezha could sleep with it on.

Baal looked around, scanning his eyes around the room before landing on the window not a few feet away from Nezha's bed. He walked over to it, aware that window sills were usually Nezha's favoured spot to sit-- and sure enough, a blanket was placed over the wooden ledge to cushion the seat, accompanied by a couple of pillows to lean against. Baal slowly sat down, feeling Nezha's gaze on him as he settled into place. He noticed the window had been left open as well, and guessed that Nezha had used it to escape to the bar, scoffing as he shut it.

Nezha hazily blinked at him, laying flat on the bed. "Why are you still here?"

Baal shrugged again, summoning both his plasma guitar and his feline pet-- shifting the instrument into his lap whilst Hannibal curled up by his feet, meowing. "You're drunk, who knows what you'll set on fire while you're sleeping," he scoffed. He totally wasn't worried about Nezha, not at all.

Plus, that was the partial truth anyways-- Nezha didn't sleep very often since his core components were designed for him to require less rest than most others. But when he would slumber, it would usually come with nightmares from his past, and typically something burning as well. Baal could faintly remember the first time he ever saw Nezha slumber, and almost screamed when he was awakened to smoke and Nezha's surroundings being engulfed by flames.

Nezha hummed at Baal's words, watching as Baal began to play a soft melody before turning away from the music beast, laying on his side. "... Will you heal me if I have a hangover tomorrow?"

"No."

Nezha groaned, and Baal let out a quiet snicker. "Heal my back then. My back hurts."

"Old man," Baal teased, but nonetheless strummed his song of health, watching as Nezha's muscles began to relax.

"Don't call me that," Nezha muttered, a tinge of drowsiness in his voice. "Medusa already calls me an old geezer far too often."

"Then what do you propose I call you?" Baal huffed, listening as Nezha's resonance began to slow into a calm, gentle song.

"What was that term the skyfarers used..." Nezha mumbled, before coming to a quiet pause. And Baal thought that the wind primal had gone to sleep before he could answer the question, but a silent mutter of words stopped him from thinking that.

"Perhaps... your boyfriend..."

Baal's eyes shot wide at the sentence, mouth going slightly agape in shock. But before he could interrogate his companion on his response, the quiet tune of Nezha's resonance falling into slumber filled his ears-- and he was left to sit alone in both confusion and awe.

Surely Nezha was only joking right? He was drunk-- _seventeen bottles drunk_ \-- so his replies were distorted. Yeah, that was it. It wasn't like Nezha had made perfectly clear and cohesive statements just moments before, he absolutely didn't.

After all, Baal didn't want to get his hopes up.

Baal gave a heavy sigh, mustering a small smile when Hannibal affectionately nuzzled his head into his leg. He hesitantly resumed his tranquil melody, staring out into the open midnight skies as he did so.

He wanted Nezha to be able to feel what love was. Love was such an odd yet enjoyable feeling, and Baal would like to think that Nezha would be a fan of the emotion. And even if it would take years or maybe even centuries until Nezha could loosen the bounds upon his other feelings, Baal was fine with it. He loved Nezha, and he would do anything in his power to help his companion of many years find those missing pieces of himself.

Even if that meant dragging his drunk self back home every day.

Baal soon fell asleep himself, lulled by the soft serenade of Nezha's song. And when morning approached, he was oblivious to a blanket gently being draped over him, as well as a warm cup of tea that was placed by his side.

**Author's Note:**

> wanted some dumbassery so i thought of nezha being drunk-  
> also nezha has a liver of steel don't question it-
> 
> anywho, thank u for reading. i miss nezha, that is all //goes back to banging on his cage
> 
> twitter: @flxmelxnce


End file.
